


His Name

by kitogic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fighting, Gen, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Inquisitor, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitogic/pseuds/kitogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by TCFandom's story about Cole accidentally outing their Inquisitor. I immediately thought about how a similar situation could go down with Jariel, and this was the result. It isn't the best. I dare say it isn't even good. But it's about my son and I love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I suck marvelously at titling my works. This will be a reoccurring theme.
> 
> Fun fact, Jariel's old name means "she sings". Sort of. I tried to meld elven words together to mean something.
> 
> TW: Misgendering

His legs ached and his skin was screaming; the stupid blistering sun had turned his dark skin red with sunburn, something that he was not looking forward to dealing with back at Skyhold. They were wandering around Western Approach, looking for shards. His long sword felt like it was going to pull him down into the sand. His armor felt heavier than usual and he wanted nothing more than to stop under a rocky outcropping to take a breather. Luckily enough for him, his party had the same idea. Dorian had been very verbally complaining about the heat the whole time, something that had made Jariel smile slightly. 

“It’s either too hot or too cold,” he said over his shoulder. “Make up your mind, Pavus.” The mage frowned back at him, obviously not amused. “I’m sorry that Orlais can’t make up its own damn mind about the weather,” he huffed in his haughty fashion. The Inquisitor suppressed a laugh, smiling. But the mage was right about one thing; it was entirely too hot. 

“Maybe if you took off some of those fancy robes, then you wouldn’t be so hot,” Iron Bull said passively from his place next to Jariel. The elf shot him a glance, cocking an eyebrow, as a pang of jealousy shot through him. Why was he prickling like this? It was just a casual comment. Dorian scoffed. “As if I would give you the satisfaction.” Bull grinned, finding the response amusing, apparently. Jariel turned his eyes away, growing uncomfortable. But he perked up slightly when he spotted an excellent place for camp. There was a small clearing with grass and trees hidden away beside a cliff, hiding in the cool shadows cast out by sun that was now beginning to lower in the sky. 

“What do you think about setting up camp?” He asked, stopping to turn to his companions.

“Searing, scalding feet seeking solace, wanting, wishing for rest,” Cole murmured, face hidden by his wide brimmed hat. Jariel’s brows drew together. “That could be any one of us,” Dorian said. “Most likely me. Yes, Inquisitor, I do believe camp would be the right plan of action.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Jariel let out a heavy sigh. His body still ached, but he had taken off most of his armor and finally let himself rest. The sun had sunk even lower in the sky, casting pink, orange, and purple hues over the clouds. They had set up camp and a few Inquisition scouts had come to help them hold the camp for the night. Thankfully, so far there hadn’t been much action in the area. They did have to fight off a few spiders and a hyena, but other then that it had been peaceful. 

He was leaning against one of the wooden poles that held up their tents, a book in his hand. He was having a hard time focusing on reading, however. Bull was standing near a tree, having just removed his shoulder harness. He had hung it up on a branch, and now, back facing Jariel, he was rolling his shoulders. Jariel watched as his muscles pulled under his grey, scarred skin, and he found himself blushing, and quickly tried to distract himself with his book. No good, unfortunately. He looked over to Cole who was sitting in the tall grass, gently playing with the brown-green plants. At least he was keeping himself busy. Dorian was no doubt in his tent trying to cool off. 

Jariel treasured these moments; when everything seemed relatively normal and somewhat peaceful. It was quiet, with the sounds of the Approach around them. Wind, grass swaying, bugs and the occasional cry of a quillback. He liked it. It almost reminded him of his life in the clan, albeit clan Lavellan did roam completely different environments. Still, the sentiment and energy was there. 

“Do you miss it?” 

Jariel was pulled from his thoughts by a soft voice. He met Cole’s pale gaze, smiling slightly. “My clan?” He assumed Cole had been listening to his thoughts. He thanked the Creators that the poor spirit hadn’t been listening when he had been watching Bull.

The young man nodded, expression unchanging. Jariel shifted, resting his arm on his upright knee. “I do. Not many people say this, but I miss the Free Marches.” His mind wandered, pulling memories from childhood that he hadn’t thought of in a while. His eyes darkened at some, his chest tightening. That’s when everything went wrong. 

“They… called you a different name,” Cole said slowly, brows drawing together. Bull turned, his attention pulled by their conversation.

“ Sulahnan, she sings.” Jariel’s blood ran cold. Cole continued, his intention to help only making things worse. “Eyes bright like the sky and hair like the sun, shimmering, shining. He was angry when she cut it off.” Jariel stood, his book clambering to the ground, forgotten. Cole looked confused, watching the elf. “Mother was kind to Sulahnan. She let her play with the boys, but that wasn’t enough. She-”

“Cole!” Jariel barked, voice cracking. The spirit looked up at him with wide eyes. “I am sorry, I didn’t-” Before he could finish, Jariel disappeared into his tent. His face was burning with shame. No one was to know that. No one was to know that name. And now his whole camp did. Cole’s calm voice had echoed off the stone face of the cliff. There was no way his party hadn’t heard that. But it had been convoluted information. Jariel grimaced, remembering that they had all been around Cole long enough to know what the odd boy meant when he spoke. Not to mention the fact that the longer he thought about what Cole said, the less convoluted it was. 

Jariel’s chest felt tight. It hurt, like something inside him was wrapping itself around his heart. He leaned against a support, trying to claim air. He couldn’t stay here. Not when they were outside, expecting him to come out and explain. He couldn’t do that, not now. He stumbled, pulling on his armor clumsily. He grabbed his sword and strapped it to his back. He could hear Dorian outside, talking to who he assumed were Iron Bull and Cole, but he couldn’t make out the words. Perhaps Dorian missed what happened, maybe he had been asleep. It didn’t matter. He needed to leave.  
Jariel moved to the back of the tent, lifting up the auburn materiel and crawling under it. His armor snagged on the fabric and he cursed quietly, tearing himself away. He stood, stooping, waiting for the time to move. He peaked around the corner, hoping to find his window. Bull had his back to the tree, standing a few feet away. He was talking to Dorian, whose head was tilted down in thought, while Cole was picking at the grass again. Now or never. 

The elf deftly rushed behind the tree, easily hidden by the thick trunk. For once, he was glad that he was small. He bolted, taking off for the open expanse that was known as the Western Approach.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jariel is faced with fighting a small pack of hyena's by himself in the Western Approach. This chapter's got some violence in it, just as a warning. Hyena's are very annoying. Also, some cute stuff at an inappropriate time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this resolve itself? Excellent question. Why do I write these things at 3 am? The world may never know.

By the time Jariel stopped to catch his breath, night had fallen. The temperature had already begun to drop, and the air was crisp. The elf was bent over, using his sword for support. He had managed to avoid running into any hostiles, though he did see a phoenix take down a small band of bandits. His chest still felt tight, and running had only made it worse. He sat down, pressing his back against the large stones that made up what he believed to be an abandoned mining rig. He tried to slow down his breath, tried anything to forget about what had happened. He wanted to pull off his armor, but he knew that would be incredibly dumb, considering where he was. The Western Approach was the last place you’d want to be found defenseless. 

 

Sulahnan. That bleeding name was a curse to him. He hated it. No one was ever supposed to know that name. He had made it a point to make sure no one would know that name, and now the people he cared most about did. What would Dorian think? And Bull? Why was he worrying about Bull? He knew about Krem, something that had filled Jariel with hope. Jariel had talked about it in secret with Krem, making the young man promise not to tell anyone. It was a stupid fear that ate away at his stomach, the fear that Bull wouldn’t be interested in bedding him, or want to enter a relationship with him. His heart hurt. He cared so deeply for the Quinari that it was ridiculous. He could feel tears trail down his dark cheeks, but he didn't care. And Dorian, his closest friend. He knew he should have told him sooner. He was just so afraid. He should have known this would happen. 

 

He ran his gauntlet clad hands through his hair, the sharp metal tips raking his scalp. It hurt, but it didn’t register in Jariel’s brain. He longed for the security of his bed chambers. He wanted to just curl up in his bed and forget any of this ever happened. Instead he was here, alone in the wilds of the Approach, almost completely at the mercy of whatever lived out here. But he didn’t really care about the dangers. That was, until he heard a low, deep growl.

 

He snapped his head up, only to lock eyes with a large hyena. It was flanked by three others, all moving to surround him. The leader had cold, red eyes that gleamed in the moonlight, it's rough, matted fur covered in sand and what he could only assume to be bandit bits. How charming. He reached for his sword, but the hyena’s hackles raised further, its growl turning into a snarl. Jariel paused, trying to process his choices. He was practically surrounded. His armor was strong and well made, but it would only hold out for so long. He knew he could hack his way out of this… maybe. He had taken down plenty of these beasts before, but four, all by himself? The outcome wasn’t in his favor. He quickly shifted his gaze to the hyena that was coming up on his right. They were moving slowly, possibly assessing Jariel in their own way. One thing was for certain; they knew that the odds were against him. 

 

They moved in. Jariel lunged for his sword, swinging it out to knock down the Hyena that had come up on his left. The creature flew back, slamming into the stone with a high yelp. The elf whirled, ready to face the others. He knew the first one wouldn’t stay down for long, but he needed every second he could get. Two came at him at once, and he held up the long sword to deflect the nearest hyena. He slammed his foot into the other’s muzzle, knocking it aside. He felt a sudden and blunt blow to his back as he staggered, almost taken off his feet. He moved his arm up and back to protect his neck, thankfully just in time to stop the hyena from clamping down on him. It attempted to sink its teeth into his vambrace, and with a great deal of force, he managed to twist his arm away and force the hyena off of him. 

 

His breath was labored as he spun and slashed out with his sword, catching the hyena under its upturned head. The sharp metal edge of the sword easily sliced through the creature’s neck and it fell to the ground, head lolling. Jariel felt a sharp and very present nausea beginning to rise in his stomach. He quickly looked away from the corpse, trying to focus on the next one. One down, three to go. Without a second beat, the next one was on him, the other two quickly following suit. Jariel swung, trying to slice through one, but missed, and the hyena floored him. His sword fell from his grip and clamored against the stone under him. He raised his arm in a desperate attempt to keep the snapping jaws away from him, the canines glaring a milky yellow in the light of the moon.

 

He was so focused on not dying that he didn’t even notice the familiar war cry that approached. There was a loud and sudden slice and crunch, followed by a choked yelp that was promptly cut off. Another shout, savage and guttural. This time he heard it. A wave of relief flooded over him as he reached out for his fallen sword. He turned his head slightly to try to see his weapon, but the hyena’s snapping maw was drawing dangerously close to his face. He saw a decently sized stone out of the corner of his eye and without a second thought he grabbed it, swiftly bringing it to the beast’s head. He used all his strength to slam it into it’s temple. The hyena whimpered, buckling and falling to the side, legs weak. Jariel used the moment to scramble to his sword, but by the time he reached it, there was the sound of metal ripping through bone and flesh, followed by silence. 

 

Jariel stood, bent with fatigue, shaking. That had been his closest call with death in a while, and he wasn’t looking forward to the next time. He looked over to where he knew Bull was standing, but saw the corpses and gagged. No matter how many times they killed enemies, it was never easy to see the carnage after the fight. He pressed his hand over his nose and mouth, but it didn’t help. He heard Bull grunt, swinging his ax so that it rested on his shoulder.

“Couldn’t take on the pack yourself? Are you losing your touch, boss?” 

 

Jariel took a deep breath, removing his hand, and looked up at the Quinari. “Never had a touch to begin with,” he said, hands still shaking. He dropped his sword and let himself slide down to the ground. He tried to steady his breathing, closing his eyes. 

 

“You could have gotten yourself killed.”

 

Jariel sighed, rubbing his head. “I know,” was the elf’s quiet response. Iron Bull walked over, crouching next to him. “We’d be pretty fucked with no one to close that hole in the sky,” he said in his deep, rolling voice. Even now, his voice was calming. Jariel wasn’t sure what it was. Just the way he said things, the tone of his voice. It was nice, familiar. 

 

Jariel didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how to. Yeah, it was dumb of him to run into the Approach with no help, but he couldn’t be around them, not after what happened.

 

“I should have told you sooner.” His mouth was moving on its own, despite not wanting to speak. “It was dumb of me, and selfish.”

 

“Dumb, yes. Selfish? No.” Iron Bull shifted so that he was sitting beside Jariel. “Things like that need to come about on their own time. But it wasn’t news to me.”

 

Jariel looked up at Bull. He wasn’t even surprised. Of course he already knew, Bull wasn’t dumb. If anything, he was more aware of that sort of thing than most, considering his lieutenant. 

 

“You’re still the same Jariel. You’re not any different than you were an hour ago. Maybe a little more winded, but other than that…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at Jariel. “You’re still you.”  

 

Jariel felt his heart swell. It’s what he had expected to hear. He had been worried for no reason, he had known that. But he had been afraid. He let himself lean against Bull’s bicep, resting his head on the muscle. 

 

“Hold on,” he said, thinking. “How did you find me?”

 

“Ben-Hassrath, remember?” He said with a slight smile. “I knew the moment you left camp.”

 

He should have guessed that too. They sat in silence again.

 

After a few beats, Iron Bull spoke. “But honestly, were you really afraid to tell  _ me _ ?” Bull asked, tone changing. “Me?”

 

“Especially you,” Jariel said simply.

 

“Why exactly would you be afraid to tell me?”

 

“Because I-” He stopped himself. Thinking about it, it really was foolish. “I don’t know. I just got nervous, and I couldn’t stop imagining you not wanting to- Ah, well,” he sat up a little straighter, looking down at his hands. “Like I said, dumb.”

 

Surprisingly, Bull took one of Jariel’s hands in his. He couldn’t help but notice how much incredibly smaller than Iron Bull he was. 

 

“Just so you know, I would take you no matter what you had going on down there.” Jariel could hear the smirk in his voice, and his face turned red. Creator’s preserve him. 

 

“Is now really the time for that?” He asked, looking up at Bull with a cocked eyebrow, trying to look like he wasn’t currently screaming internally. A sheepish smile danced on his lips, the corner quirking slightly. 

 

“There’s always time for that.” He said, grinning down at the elf. 

“I am literally covered in blood. I think it can wait till we get back to camp,” he said, feeling much better, as he stood. He bent, picking up his sword and sliding it into its sheath on his back. Bull chuckled quietly, bracing his hand on his good knee as he stood as well. 

  
“Whatever you say, boss.”


End file.
